The Permanent Maternal Record
Writes HAPPY MOTHER OF SIX: Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is a favorite photo, taken in the early 1950s, of my mother, sisters, and me. My mother died on Mother’s Day 40 years ago. I still think about her and miss her every day. Mother’s Day became a sad day for me, for a while, but with the arrival of each of my children, it became a happy day and a day to be cherished.
Ã¢â‚¬Å“Happy Mother’s Day to all the BB mothers, and my thoughts and prayers are with those who no longer have their mother.Ã¢â‚¬?

Writes DebK of Rosemount: “Like Dr. T [BB, 5/9/2014], I’ve occasionally recognized the face of a former teacher staring up at me from the obituary pages. The passing of these good men and women is hard evidence of the passing of time, of course, as is the fact that many of them turn out to have had only a two-year normal-school degree by way of formal career preparation.

“My teachers’ abbreviated professional training may explain why art instruction got short shrift in our small public school. In that era — at least in rural Northwest Iowa — elementary-school teachers handled the subject on their own, occasionally carving out time to encourage artistic expression by means of scissors, construction paper, and thick school paste doled out with Popsicle sticks.

“Serious creative impulses were unleashed in the days leading up to Christmas. Every year, we made gifts for our parents, and our teachers seemed to take some pride in pulling out all the stops. As second-graders, we delighted our mothers with necklaces painstakingly fashioned from turkey neck bones salvaged from our Thanksgiving dinners. Even that remarkable effort was eclipsed when I was in fourth grade and Mrs. Frolkey somehow got her hands on a mother lode of baby-blue dry-cleaner bags. Equipped with razor blades sent from home — single- or double-edged, depending on your dad’s preference — all 33 of us students spent hours cutting those plastic bags into 1- by 6-inch strips. When that opus concluded, we tied the strips onto wire coat hangers that we’d wrestled into the general shape of a wreath.

“Sadly, the proliferation of lawyers has likely resulted in the elimination of the dry-cleaner-bag wreath from the art curriculum in most places. It’s a shame, because Mom and Dad were deeply impressed by the fluffy blue wreath I presented them. I know, because Mom displayed it as part of the farmhouse Christmas decor every year until the basement flooded and rendered it unsightly.”

The kindness of strangers (resp’l)

Wednesday’s Bulletin Board included a note from Anne Nonny Mouse: “Subject: May Day! May Day!

“My kids used to deliver May baskets every year, until they were too grown up for it. For years after my kids were all grown up, we received May baskets from kid acquaintances, whether they were neighbor kids or Scouts, or however we knew them. We had a couple of kids in our Sunday-school class who delivered year after year until they were too grown up to leave a basket, ring the doorbell and run. I can usually depend on a May basket from the grandkids, but one is out of state and we were babysitting the other for a few days, and I should have thought to make May-basket plans. I will not slip up in this regard again.

“The day before May Day, I was commenting to a co-worker that probably no May basket would be hung on our door this year, because past basket-placers were all grown up. My co-worker agreed that she has received them often in the past, but did not expect to get one this year. We talked about what a sweet tradition May baskets were, and we hope it doesn’t fade away.

“We don’t use the front door at our house much; we tend to use a side door that leads from the garage. I didn’t open up the front door until May 4th. Hanging from our doorknob was a May basket. I hadn’t noticed the little folded paper basket with candy and a note in it in all the times I had driven up our driveway, but as soon as I opened the front door, there it was. Our basket was colored with crayon and had the darn cutest little smiley face drawn on it and a note that it was placed there by a class at nearby Somerset Elementary. It made my day (even if I was three days late in finding it).

“Thank you to the teacher who let the kids out of class on a beautiful day in May to spread some cheer. Thank you to Somerset School for knowing there are traditions worth keeping, especially when they make people happy.”

We presently heard from Vivian of White Bear: “I did receive a cute, handmade and colored basket at my doorstep the other day. Was not familiar with the practice until reading about it in the Bulletin Board.

“My delightful basket had a plastic egg filled with candy.

“Now I wish I knew who did it so I could thank them for this day brightener.”

Life (and death) as we know it (resp’l)

Or: Our community of strangers

NoSued Name: “The 5-6-14 contribution from St. Paul Teacher, about the death of her newborn son, touched me deeply. Please convey to her — either publicly in BB, or privately; whichever you see fit — that she shared a real treasure. Yes, I had to get a tissue while reading it. Yes, I’m keeping my copy. But, in fact, her piece was quite a sermon!

“Thank her — and thank you for including it.”

Elizabeth Grabowski: “In response to St. Paul Teacher:

“Nicholas is remembered.

“He is remembered when I think of the fabulous teachers my daughter had and think of you.

“He is remembered when I hear of a baby or little boy named Nicholas.

“He is remembered when I hear snippets about your family from the school they attend.

“He is remembered when I think of the heartbroken but strong young parents at his funeral.

“There really are no words, but rest assured Nicholas Albert is remembered.”

Band Name of the Day (responsorial)

Or: Everyone’s a critic!

Friday call from Semi-Legend: “I think you blew it with your Band Name of the Day today [The Big Attack Snakes — or: Kind of Nuts].

“Clearly the Band Name of the Day should have been … Stuffed Muppet Chicken.”

Great minds …

Late Night Comedy Division

Reports The Retired Pedagogue of Arden Hills: “Subject: Now I lay me …

“It was the same city (New York). The same network (NBC). The same joke (see below). But different nights. Maybe Fallon’s writers watched Meyers’ Monday monologue and decided the joke was good enough to recycle on Tuesday. You be the judge.

“Seth: ‘Some political news: The Supreme Court ruled today that public prayer — public prayer — can be used to open official government meetings. And that makes sense. A lot of people like to pray right before they go to sleep.’

“Jimmy: ‘Lot of people are talking about this today: The Supreme Court upheld a decision that allows town hall meetings to open with a prayer. But the prayer probably won’t get answered, because when God heard it was a town hall meeting, even He went to sleep.’ ”

Numerology today

Or: Hmmmmmmmm

Red’s Offspring, north of St. Paul:“Subject: By the numbers.

“I was out of town for a few days, so I didn’t read the May 2 entry on my Minnesota Twins page-a-day calendar until this week, but it’s still interesting: ‘Fact: In 1974, Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s career home run record in the fourth inning of the fourth Braves game of the season. The date was April 4: the fourth day of the fourth month. Both Hank Aaron and Al Downing, the pitcher who surrendered the historic home run, wore the same uniform number: 44.’

“More eeriness: When I opened ‘mail’ upon my return from my trip, there were 44 messages in my inbox.”

This ‘n’ that

Nora of St. Paul: “Bulletin Board frequently reminds us ‘you’re almost never the only one,’ so I’m curious: Did anyone besides my husband get Spam in their Easter basket?

“And: I saw a first sign of the end of summer this week. Received an email from the State Fair saying we could begin registering for Creative Activities.”

Band Name of the Day: Easter Spam — or, well, OK, rules are meant to be broken, just this one time: Stuffed Muppet Chicken (happy now, Semi-Legend?)

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